The Postman Knocks Twice
by SassyJ
Summary: Stuart is arrested on drugs charges..... or is he?
1. Prologue

_It was perfect. A single white rose, just out of bud. Tied with a pink silk ribbon. Her fingers caressed the silk bow as she read the card._

"_J, We'll always have Paris. D_

_PS. I love you"_

_She smiled, recalling the mad dash, the light in his eyes, the laughter in his voice, "have you got your passport."_

"_Well that's what you said, bring passport and self."_

"_So I did."_

"_This is completely crazy..."_

"_So? It feels nice to be a little crazy once in a while." The warm spark in his beautiful brown eyes convinced her, it was mad, but it was fun to be a little mad sometimes._

_He bought the tickets, paying an obscene amount._

"_First Class?" Apparently she was a lady who should always ride first class. He grabbed her hand, and they ran to the carriage. He bought dinner and they settled down to enjoy the ride and each other's company._

_As they drew into the station, he dug in his pocket and pulled out his passport, "two secs...hold onto this for me." She picked it up, wonder if his photo's as bad as mine. She opened it, his expression solemn, he stared back at her from the page, she looked at the details. I never realised he had a middle name... oh my. She giggled. Feeling ever so slightly light headed. Caught up in the sheer heart stopping delightful romance of it all, right, wrong, rational, crazy, who cared... they were two people captured by the irresistible whirl of excitement that comes with new love._

_He'd booked a hotel, on the train, and she listened to his perfectly phrased French, spoken with a strong accent that she couldn't quite place, but that came as no real surprise as she didn't know regional French accents that well. She just knew enough to know that it wasn't Parisian. She knew a little about his past, that his mother was French, which explained his affinity with the language, until then she hadn't seen the slightest evidence of it. He had a lot of secrets._

_His familiarity with the French Metro system came as no surprise, and he led her confidently through the complicated system to their hotel. Their room was on the fourth floor, she was tired. She walked to the lift. It was small, barely room for both of them, thank goodness we haven't got baggage. He wasn't with her, and she turned around. He was standing at the foot of the stairs. "Four floors? No way." she held out her hand, "come on." Reluctantly, or so it seemed to her, he walked into the lift._

_It was small and old. And very slow. He held her hand. By the time they reached the fourth floor, his palm was sweating and the death grip of his fingers, entwined with hers, was threatening to force the blood out of her hand entirely. His eyes were screwed shut, and he looked about to either faint or be sick._

_She stroked the back of his neck. "I never realised. Sorry."_

"_Don't be. It's so stupid. Just don't tell the guys." He grinned at her, and she smiled ruefully. "Tough guy cop wants to hang on to his reputation."_

"_Well... you know how it is."_

_Suddenly serious, she looked up into his face. "You know no one would actually think any the worse of you because you're claustrophobic. It's something you have no control over."_

_They reached the room, and he paused, unlocked it, and in one swift move he scooped her up in his arms._

"_Put me down, you idiot." She tried to protest, the laughter in his eyes was infectious. He stepped through the door and deposited her on the bed._

"_Your wish is my command." Her arms went up round his neck and she pulled him down to her._


	2. On Remand

Stuart Turner stood in the dock and tried to clamp down on the rising panic he was feeling. Just absorbing the bit about being on remand was making him feel sick, his head in a whirl, the fact that he knew exactly what was going to happen didn't make him feel any better about it. He looked down at his hands, cuffed in front of him. A detached part of his brain attempting to process the information he would need for survival.

A hand touched his elbow and pulled him away, and Stuart looked up, his eyes searching the packed room, but seeking only one person. Terrified, confused brown eyes looked deep into the strangely blue and brown eyes of the one person on the planet who meant the world to him, and he steadied his nerve. She was there for him. Whatever came, Jo was his rock.

"I always knew he was a wrong un." She heard Phil Hunter speak to Sam Nixon. She wanted to yell at Phil, even now, he just had to put the boot in and he knew that she must have heard him. She knew how it looked, but since he also knew that she and Stu were friends, couldn't he, just once, have said nothing. Because she knew he would never say anything nice or constructive about Stuart Turner.

She slipped quietly from her seat. Whatever else happened, whatever she had been asked to do, for the fear and stress she had seen on his face, she had to be there for him. She ran downstairs quietly, avoiding her colleagues. Just then she needed to be alone, to summon her courage, because she knew what he was facing, and in her heart of hearts, she was afraid. She couldn't show him that. He needed her to be strong.

"Can I have a couple of minutes." She looked expectantly at the bored, indifferent guard. Every fibre of her being screaming _can't you see how stressed he is, how close to the edge, what's the matter with you, aren't you even human?_ But she didn't.

Stu sat on the hard bench, his head resting back against the wall, he was looking at the ceiling. She moved forward and sat next to him. Taking his cold, quivering fingers in her warm ones, she looked back at the guard, "can't you take the cuffs off, please?"

"No. You have two minutes." he pulled the door to behind him, affording them a tiny measure of privacy.

"I never thought I'd feel like this..."

"Stu, this is all wrong."

"No." He shook his head, swallowing hard. He leaned forward, and she wrapped her arms around him, pulling him hard against her, he was shivering, his cuffed hands reaching up to clutch around her upper arm, his face buried against her neck. She knew it wasn't what he was facing, or even the stress of being cuffed in these circumstances, it was the prison van. Stu's claustrophobia was something that he had kept hidden from everyone, she'd only found out by accident, and he was fighting to maintain control, but being put, cuffed, into what amounted to a tin box nearly caused a major panic attack. Now he was facing the journey back and he wasn't coping.

She rubbed the back of his neck with her hand, his breathing was coming in snatches, shudders ripping through his body as he fought the panic that was rising at the thought of going back in the van. He had to do this, there really wasn't any choice.

"Time's up." The intrusive voice of the bored guard.

Jo wanted to scream, _NO_ To hold him close and never let him go. But making any kind of scene would make the stress worse for Stu. They got to their feet. Stu stood passively, and the guard took hold of the cuffs. Jo gently stroked his cheek. "I'll be seeing you." He nodded, and allowed himself to be led away.

Jo walked into the office and shut the door behind her. Meadows looked up.

She sat down and fixed him with a weary gaze "Well it's done." She glanced at Neil Manson. "I hope you both know what you're doing, because he's not really up for this."

Neil picked up on her flat tone, and the slight wobble in her voice.

"Jo, are _you_ ready for this, Stuart is going to need you, if you can't do it, I'll find someone else."

She looked down at her hands and twisted her fingers together to still their trembling. "No, I'm ready," she looked up at him, the merest suspicion of tears in her eyes, "despite the fact that I think this is absolutely the most stupid, dangerous plan that has ever been thought up and I hate it with a passion. In spite of all that, you see, everything depends on success, failure is not an option." her voice wobbled, tears were very close now, "because, guv, my baby will not grow up without a father."

They stared at her in disbelief, and then incredulity.

She nodded, "that's right." She rose to her feet, "now guv, if you don't mind..."

Jack waved his hand, "no, no, of course not, go home..."

She turned back at the door. "Guv, I would appreciate it if you didn't say anything. Stu doesn't even know yet." She fought the lump in the back of her throat, "I couldn't tell him, or he wouldn't have been able to go."


	3. A, B, C or D

Stevie looked sadly across the room at Stuart's empty desk. _Stuart Turner, a drug dealer?_ Not a chance. She knew him. He'd nearly died in her arms after being shot in the neck with a syringe full of heroin. His sudden and total collapse told her everything that she needed to know about Stu's relationship to drugs. He didn't have one. They'd had a brief and passionate affair for ten weeks, during which he was alleged to have been active as a drug dealer. _Crap._ She snorted. Stuart Turner had been fitted up, and she intended to make it her mission to find out who and why.

_God alone knows what this is doing to Jo._ She glanced across at her friend and fellow officer. Jo seemed subdued. Stevie was just about to go across to her when Kezia entered the CID. She was carrying it in her hand.

"Jo. Your secret admirer."

Jo's eyes welled up with tears and she took the single rose from her friend. Tenderly stroked the pink ribbon. Read the card. Stevie knew that the card would be from the mysterious D. Well she hoped that D cared for Jo a lot, because she was going to need the support of her friends. Stu and Jo were very, very close, and this was really hurting her.

The roses had started arriving every Friday about four weeks ago. A single white rose. To J, from D. Some simple and deeply caring sentiment and _PS I love you._ Cute. Romantic.

Despite her sense of anger and loss over Stuart's plight, there was always the question of D. And Stevie was curious. She would help Stu, but she also really, really, really wanted to find out the identity of D. She drifted in a casual sort of way over to Jo's desk.

"Are you okay."

She had never seen Jo so down, and it was quite painful to see.

"I'll be alright." Jo looked at her friend and saw the sincerity. _Stevie's fond of Stu too._ Whatever she knew about the reality, the things that had been said by Phil Hunter and Max really hurt. Max had some excuse, because he hardly knew Stu, but Phil was motivated by pure jealousy, because he saw Sam as his personal property and Stu had had the temerity to date her. But the bit that hurt the worst, as Jo saw it, was that Sam was not as quick as the rest of the team to refute what was being said about Stu.

Stevie, Terry, Mickey, Grace, Kezia even Banksy had all come out on the side of Stuart's innocence of all charges. And Jo took heart that her colleagues were so quick to leap to Stu's defense.

Stu himself was feeling more than a little angry. He'd been dropped into this because top brass thought it was a good idea. So he'd really had little option but to go along with it. He didn't like the risks, he thought the plan a remarkably stupid one, and it put pressure on Jo. Pretty much the entire idea made him angry. The pressure on Jo made him furious and aggrieved. She didn't need this.

He turned the shower on full blast and stepped under it. Rinsing the soap out of his hair, he leaned into the spray. A sound registered. There were three of them. And they weren't there to welcome him. _So this is how it's going to be._ He smiled grimly. No more Mr Nice Guy, no warrant card in here. He moved away from the wall. If he was going to get a beating, he was going to take at least one of them with him. Twenty eight years of conditioning into an Englishman went out the window, the genetic blueprint of a Marseilles street urchin rose to the surface and Stu let fly. He punched the first one hard in the face, slipping under his guard quite easily, and dropped to sweep the legs out from under the second, but the third got in a punch to his kidneys that nearly dropped him. There was a clatter outside the shower room which sounded like guards arriving. So Stu gave it everything he had and then some. By the time the guards arrived to break up the fight, he'd taken quite a pasting, but he'd dealt out quite a lot himself. Bruised, a bit bloodied but utterly unbowed, he smiled grimly to himself when the guards started to question them about what happened.

"Slippery floor. Accidents will happen." His smile was feral and he knew it. The look in his eyes made one of his would be attackers flinch. _Good... perhaps they'll get the message._ He took a certain perverse pleasure in his own behaviour, Stuart Turner, DS and one of Sun Hill's finest wouldn't have dreamed of getting his hands dirty. But Stu Turner, son of Frank Turner, Merchant Seaman and Marie Turner, a Marseilles street urchin herself, well that was a somewhat different matter. For the first six years of his life, they'd lived in Marseilles. Frank had plenty of work, and it was Marie's home, and Stu had run wild, like so many other youngsters. But Frank had plans for his son, and returning to England was in those plans. He'd wanted his son to grow up knowing more than he had, having a decent, settled life, and a good education, both things that he wouldn't have had in Marseilles. So they'd left. And Marie had struggled. And six years later she'd left her husband and her son and never looked back. So had begun the real transformation that had turned Stuart from a street urchin into the confident, assured Detective Sergeant that he had become.

He dried himself off and walked out of the shower. Giving the three of them a hard look on the way. He knew he was probably going to draw a bit of fire for that when this was all over, but he didn't care. This was his survival. And since Heaton's big idea gave him very little to go on, and almost no room for maneuver, he was going to do what he could with what he'd got.

It was a somber little group that gathered round a table in the pub. Stevie, Terry, Mickey, Grace, Banksy sat down and looked at each other in what could be termed despair. Stuart Turner was one of them, they'd all worked with him, yes he was a devious so and so, he would let people cut corners, he wasn't above pulling the rug out from under someone and he could also be an inveterate risk taker, but he wasn't a drug dealer. And every single one of them would stake their pensions on that. Smithy picked up his pint and wandered over.

"Is this a private wake, or can anyone join?"

Stevie moved up a little so that he could slide onto the bench next to her. "We were discussing what we can do to help Stuart."

Smithy sipped his pint. "Drugs." he looked a bit wary.

Stevie snorted "Stuart a drug dealer? Yeah right, and the moon is made of green cheese." She looked at Smithy, "you didn't see the Danny Peters thing, you weren't there when he collapsed. He nearly died, Smithy. He'd stopped breathing by the time the paramedics got there. It was touch and go whether they could save him for a while there. And trust me, drugs are not Stu's style. He wouldn't touch them."

"I'd go along with that." Callum's voice from over his shoulder. Everyone budged up again so that he could find a stool and join them.

"The question is," said Terry, "What are we going to do about it?"

Gina Gold picked up her drink and drifted casually down the bar towards Neil Manson. "It rather looks as though the Superintendent's little plan is going to go up in smoke."

"Stuart's a big part of the team." Neil looked at his team, "just because he's a bit of a loner outside of work, Heaton assumed that there was no connection inside work." For a second his mind went back to the extraordinary revelation from the night before. "Stuart's got friends, and getting them to back off won't be easy."


	4. Visiting Time

Jo waited in the visitors area. It had been a week. A week in which the tension and worry she was feeling over Stuart's forced incarceration was on the brink of making her ill. She knew he was tough, a lot tougher than the others suspected, but he wasn't equipped for this, and exposing him like this was just stupid. Trevor Jones knew exactly who and what Stuart was. The fact that the entire _plan_ hinged upon this, that Trevor should get careless because he suspected Stuart was an undercover plant was optimistic in the extreme. And Stu was a copper. Coppers who went to jail always suffered.

She was feeling emotional. She'd received the results of the test the morning of Stuart's being sent down, and in those final moments before he was taken away, she knew she couldn't tell him then. The emotional strain was already telling on him, giving him another reason to want to pull out when she knew he couldn't would have been cruel.

They'd talked it over, they loved each other in a very unconventional sense. Jo didn't do _men_ but that didn't mean that she had never been intimate. To Stu, she was his rock in adversity, and his closest friend in the good times and that had come to mean much more than just physical attraction. Left alone from the near constant stream of visitors after Stu had nearly drowned in the river, they'd admitted that what they felt for each other went a lot deeper than just work buddies. Opening up went against the grain with Stu, but he felt safe with Jo and he'd found himself telling her things about his innermost thoughts and feelings that he never would have dreamed of doing with anyone else. And Jo had opened her heart about the one little thing that would make her life complete.

He'd heard her out in silence, a thoughtful look on his face. Then he'd held her close, looked into her eyes and told her with heartfelt sincerity that they should try. Jo had looked at him, and realised that the idea didn't seem crazy, a child born of natural love. She smiled. He'd kissed her and they'd embarked on what would have seemed to those that knew both of them a fairly outrageous plan.

He was a gentle, patient and caring lover, she had never dreamed that she would enjoy a man's touch like that. And he made things fun, that crazy trip to Paris, as he'd dived out the door on his way to work, he'd told her to bring her passport and herself, that they were going somewhere after work. They both had 48 hours off and she'd gone along with it. And was glad that she had. For two days they'd put work and other things behind them. Just happy to ramble about a city that he clearly knew well. They'd roamed everywhere, the first morning he'd bought them both a full change of clothes, then they'd taken their time and just wandered about. And Jo had got a chance to see a side of Stuart that she knew no one at Sun Hill had ever seen. Just two weeks later, the postman reared his ugly head again.

She looked up from her reverie and he was walking towards her. She used the few seconds to check him over for signs of harm. The yellowing bruise under his right eye told its own story, and she knew that his clothes probably concealed the worst of it, but he was moving freely with a bit of a spring in his step and she knew he wasn't carrying any major injuries. He reached her and gathered her into his arms. Jo leaned into him and breathed in.

Stu glanced round the rooms at the other prisoners and their families, as far as he could tell he wasn't being watched, but he didn't trust any of them. The entire episode had been a bit of a washout so far, and he'd heard via the governor that his performance in the showers had not gone unremarked. _Well, Heaton's not the one who's sleeping with his back to the wall._

"this is a complete bust..." he whispered in Jo's ear, taking the opportunity to kiss her neck as well. He couldn't believe how much he missed her, and what they had. He was worried about her, she looked tired and upset, and he knew how much strain this stupid plan was putting on her. He hugged her close. They sat down, Stu's arm firmly around her waist, his free hand entwined with one of hers, and she folded the other over their clasped hands, just enjoying being close to each other as they quietly discussed what he'd got so far. Which wasn't much.

He could feel the tension in her body, and he detached his hand from hers, and tilted her chin up so that he could look in her eyes. And then he put two and two together, and knew without a shadow of a doubt that their energetic attempts to conceive a child had borne fruit.

Jo watched the slow dawning of comprehension on his face and smiled. His expression went from surprise to delight in seconds. Which was everything she had hoped he would feel.


	5. Revelations

Sharp eyes watched them. _The Postman wants leverage, what better leverage than Turner's girlfriend._

* * *

Stu held Jo's hand until the very last second. The separating of their entwined fingers was unbearable to him, but he held himself together to be strong for Jo. _She's been through more than enough with this._ If he had had the slightest suspicion that this was what he would be putting his best friend through, he would have refused point blank to have anything to do with this useless scheme. Superintendent or no Superintendent. He'd allowed himself to be flattered at the thought, and agreed, then he'd heard the plan and realised that, in effect, there was no plan. This was a fishing expedition with precious little real chance of a catch. The idea of being seen to do something was uppermost in Heaton's mind, and since Stuart had previous history with Trevor Jones he'd been chosen.

He gritted his teeth, he'd allowed his own competitiveness and _arrogance_ to sucker him into this mess. Now the most important person in his life was paying the price. _Pull your finger out Turner, she needs you to be there._ A painful memory of another time, another place and another woman was haunting the back of his mind. He had failed Sam, he would not fail Jo. And he had a feeling, a very bad feeling. He'd seen one of the guards just a little too close and a little too interested in him and Jo. Stu replayed their half hour together in his mind, and tried to tune into the bits that were outside of him and Jo. It wasn't just himself at risk.

He had to get to a phone.

* * *

Neil looked out of the window in Jack's office. Heaton would be joining them for a progress update in a moment and at last there was some movement. Neil raised an eyebrow, and slightly sour smile crossed his impassive features. _DS Stuart Turner had friends, and those friends were digging hard for answers._ They were going to have to let most of the team in on the secret, Stu's neck was on the line.

He looked across at Jack, who was watching Jo. She looked pale and tired, and very distressed. Neil felt for her. She was being put under enormous strain for this, and if they had known how involved Jo and Stuart were... He shook his head, Heaton had wanted Stuart because of Stu's previous history with The Postman. The emotional complications of Stu's relationship with Jo wouldn't have mattered.

Neil turned back to the window, and wondered exactly what the relationship between DC Jo Masters, out and proud, and DS Stuart Turner, cocky smoothie, really was. She was pregnant by him. Jo had told them that. Neil had also witnessed the look that passed between them as the court officers had taken Stuart down to the cells, the flash of complete panic on Stu's face and the answering lifting of Jo's chin, to which he had responded like a puppet on a string. However unlikely the affair, suddenly with Jo's revelation all the little puzzle pieces in Neil's head fit together and there was no doubt in his mind that Stuart Turner and Jo Masters loved each other. Having had some experience himself in the torn apart feeling of being forcibly separated, he felt for what they were obviously going through.

He also felt slightly sick for his part in putting them through it. He looked across at Jo again, putting Stuart through the wringer was one thing, Stu was a lot tougher than most people would give him credit for, Neil sensed that. But Jo was pregnant, and clearly very tired and emotional. She had visited Stu that morning and had been a bit tearful when she had come back, even though she had tried to hide it, and if Stu now knew that Jo was pregnant, which Neil suspected was the case, his anxiety levels would be through the roof right now, and he stood far greater chance of making a mistake and getting hurt because of it. Taking it all into account, the stress inflicted on the team, the burden on Jo and Stuart, and the fact that Stu had already been attacked in the showers once, and that they had exactly nothing to show for it, Neil wanted to pull Stuart out. The team's welfare was more important than this ridiculous charade.

"We have exactly nothing." He turned around and looked at Jack, "and every minute that we leave Stuart in there increases the chances of something going wrong." Neil looked down at the floor to hide the anger in his eyes, "it's Stuart's life that's at risk, for this. And it's pulling the team apart."

"I know."

"Guv, we have to pull him out."

Jack leaned forward. He really hated the idea from the first, he didn't like exposing his team to unnecessary risk. And it was Stuart Turner's neck on the line. Something that Heaton seemed to have forgotten; Jack had heard all about the shower incident, and was slightly surprised at his sergeant, he wouldn't have expected Stuart to defend himself as well as he had. The governor had been quite angry about it, and Heaton had responded, a politician to his fingertips.

_Politics_. That's what the relationship between Heaton and the public boiled down to. It was Jack and his team that were in the front line with uniform. There was no room for politics. Their job was to protect the public.

"I know. Stuart's got nothing particularly useful, and the longer he's there the greater the risk."

"He knew the risk when he accepted." _Heaton's voice_. The two men looked up.

Heaton closed the door behind him. "Stuart Turner knew the risks when he accepted the job." he sat down in front of Jack. "And whilst I am not happy with his way of going about things, he seems to have established a good role for himself."

"With all due respect, Sir." Neil's tone was dry and to Heaton's ears did not sound particularly respectful, "Stuart defended himself from a beating. He had no choice. And if they had managed to injure him seriously, this would all be over now." _and in a perverse way, I wish it was._

"Well it shows that we have Trevor Jones running scared."

"Sir. It doesn't. Stuart's a copper. There isn't a lag in that jail that doesn't know that. Therefore Stuart's life is at risk. Now the attack may show that Trevor Jones is interested in trying to _"turn"_ Stuart to his advantage, but it could also mean nothing of the kind. We still do not know Jones' connection to the outside. Without that, we cannot shut him down." Neil sighed heavily, the stress of all of this, and the emotions were getting to him. "We also have another problem. Half the team are digging around trying to get information that might _"help"_ Stuart." _try a bit of flattery, aportion the blame a little _"We underestimated Stuart's place in the team, he has a lot of friends, who are very determined to dig him out of this mess. The mistake we've made is in not telling them all sooner, before someone exposes the cover story as a fake and it gets back to the prison."

* * *

Stevie Moss checked the address in her notebook, and crossed the road to the shop. _Well Ms D lets see who you are._ She pushed open the door.

A woman, probably late thirties, was arranging flowers in a bouquet, and Stevie paused for a second to admire it, all creams and burnished copper, it was a beautiful arrangement.

She showed her warrant card and explained about what she was looking for, spinning a yarn to the Florist that her friend had been receiving these mysterious deliveries and that she didn't know the identity of D, and that it was worrying her. The florist smiled, "the customer said that someone may come wanting to know more, and that I should hand this to anyone who asked." She pulled out an envelope from under the desk and handed it to Stevie.

Stevie opened the envelope and peered inside. It was a single sheet of paper, with four words neatly typed in the middle of it. Stevie huffed with frustration. _BETTER LUCK NEXT TIME_.

"Can you tell me anything about the customer?" she tried charm, "male or female, age, height etc."

"The customer was most particular, and has paid cash." The florist was polite but firm, and Stevie had no choice but to back out with as much grace as she could muster.

* * *

Jack bent over his paperwork, trying to ignore the little warning voice in his head that said that Stuart and Jo were both in trouble. Something felt wrong. If pushed he couldn't have said what. But a lifetime's experience said that something was brewing. He watched Jo out of his office window. It was the end of the day, she was very tired, and she looked ready to break. There was a greyness to her skin tone that he'd never seen before. She looked defeated.

For a moment he pondered the true nature of the relationship with Stuart and Jo. She was an out and proud gay cop, he was distinctly heterosexual, and with quite an eye for blonde, petite ladies. Jo was none of those things, but clearly Stuart saw something in her that went deeper than his usual aesthetic sense. Jack had no doubt in his mind that this unlikely affair was born of love. Neither Jo nor Stuart would have made such a radical change in their personal preferences without a very strong imperative. They had found faith, hope and trust in each other and he wished them luck. He'd seen enough destruction and misery, and failed relationships to wish this very unconventional pair all the joy in the world. _If we can just get them through this._

He thought about the briefing that had just taken place. Looking round the room at the faces of his team, he realised that it wasn't just Stuart's safety that they were talking about. It was the cohesion of his tough, intuitive and experienced team. He studied each face. Several of them looked quite annoyed by the time Heaton had finished speaking. The look on Samantha Nixon's face struck him most forcibly of all. Sam looked at first relieved, then guilty, then mildly shame-faced. She had been ready to believe the worst of Stuart. Jack couldn't decide if he thought less of Sam for having such thoughts, or less of Stuart for inspiring them.

Thinking was starting to drive him slightly crazy, his mind buzzing with alternative scenarios. He felt old, and tired, and lonely. Perhaps it was his own loneliness. He thought about his spartan little flat. Smart, stylishly furnished, even trendy. But not much to show for his fifty three years on the planet. Wife, gone. Son, gone. A bleak emptiness tugged at the edges of his existence.

He sat back in his chair and watched as they packed up for the end of the day. Terry dumped three files into Stuart's in-tray, with a pointed glare in the direction of Jack's office. Jack caught the glare and understood the message clearly. Stuart was one of them, and they would back him to the hilt.

Someone knocked at his door, and Jack roused himself from his reverie. "Come in." The door opened, and Sam Nixon entered, with Phil Hunter in tow.

"Yes."

Phil spoke "Guv, I think you have a problem. Special Ops picked up one of our targets two hours ago, and intercepted a message I think you're going to want to know about."

Jack looked puzzled.

Sam cleared her throat. She was feeling a little shaky. "It's about Stuart, guv. They know he's a plant."

Phil looked at him. "Trevor Jones has a mobile that one of the prison officers holds for him. That's why you've never found his contact to the outside, it's one of the officers. We've nicked Trevor's runner, they will know for certain that Stuart is a plant. You need to pull him out, and quickly." He looked down at the floor, and swallowed, "and that's not all, one of the messages was about his girlfriend, someone needs to get to her and quickly."

That feeling was stronger than ever. Jack surged to his feet, grabbed his jacket, yanking open the door, he looked around the room. "Max, I need you. Neil?" his DI appeared from the doorway out, "Neil, get round to Jo's now. Find her. The rest of you, we're going to Longmarsh Prison, now!" He grabbed Phil "You're coming with us?"

Phil nodded, "of course." He had the grace to look shamefaced "Guv, I thought Stuart was..."

"I know."

None of that mattered, if they didn't get to Stuart sharpish, being sorry wouldn't cut much ice.


	6. SOS

The showers. Stuart was starting to hate them. The constant need to watch his back, and now the added stress of being unable to get to a phone. Something was going to happen. He wasn't sure if it was intended to happen to him, but if it was Jo they were after. His blood ran cold at that thought. He was going out of his mind with worry.

The prison officer he had been watching on and off for the last two days appeared in the doorway, and the hairs stood up on the back of Stu's neck. _Shit, it's going to happen right here and now._ He wasn't alone but he recognised the other two prisoners as two of the goons who had attacked him before.

They grabbed him. He tried to fight back, but the weight of two men bearing him up against the wall was too much. They pinned him there, while he continued to struggle and the guard yanked his wrists back and cuffed him.

"Well, well, well. Stuart Turner... the ace detective of Wanted." Trevor Jones's voice. Stu still struggled, he wasn't going to go down without a fight, the two goons grabbed hold of his cuffed wrists and forced his arms up behind him, the strain on his shoulders giving him no choice but to bend over, and a boot sunk into his ribs. He cried out and still tried to struggle. The baton blow to the tensed thigh muscle of his right leg caused him to buckle. They let him go and he fell, his right thigh convulsing, the leg was numb. He lay on his side and waited for the attack, he could do nothing to defend himself, his leg was useless and with his hands cuffed behind his back he didn't stand a chance. _This is going to be bad._

"Hold it right there. Back away from him."

Stuart Turner had never thought he would be glad to hear the voice of Phil Hunter. He lay on his side panting with effort, and screwed his eyes shut. Hands reached out and he felt the cuffs removed from his wrists. He opened his eyes and pushed himself into a sitting position. Max Carter was there, and Jack Meadows, the room seemed filled with police officers. Stu didn't even try to work it out, they were there, and this nightmare was over. That was all he cared about.

His ribs ached, his leg was still numb and he had no intention of trying to stand up just yet. He looked up at Meadows. "What about Jo?"

Meadows looked down at his sergeant. "Neil's gone after her..."

Stu closed his eyes in relief. The feeling was returning to his right leg, and he levered himself off the floor. Phil grabbed his arm as his leg threatened to buckle again. He shot a grateful look at his former mortal enemy and limped stiffly over to pick up a towel. Getting beat up in the showers didn't exactly leave him with either the room or the inclination to dry carefully between his toes, so he toweled himself down roughly and slung on his clothes.

"Please let's get out of here." He shot a look at Jack Meadows who nodded. Leaving Phil and Special Ops to sort out the mess was fine by him.

"YOU..." Trevor Jones snarled and lunged. Without even thinking about it, Stu sidestepped and snapped an elbow backwards into Jones' face. The former drug dealer screamed and went down clutching his broken nose. Max and Jack stared, Stu grinned "slippery floor... all that soap." He didn't even bother to look back. He had somewhere he needed to be.

* * *

It felt good to be back in his own clothes again. He'd slung on what he'd had in the bag under his desk, his dark blue jeans, and a navy v neck jumper, and was headed out before anyone could even draw breath. He wasn't up for the mountain of paperwork, nor for the congratulations of his colleagues. He just wanted to get to the pub, get the one person who meant everything to him and get out of there. He'd been promised they could have a week. Jack had okayed it. And Stuart was going to take full advantage of it.

* * *

As her colleagues swarmed in noisy profusion to the bar, Jo stood back. She could feel the tears building, her hormones were all over the place, she was worn out, stressed beyond endurance. Well this was her hissy fit, she'd worked for it, she'd earned it and no one was going to deprive her of it. She'd come that close. She had nearly lost him, and that was too much to take. Now it was over. Stu was a free man again, the nightmare for them had ended. Just for once, she was going to give in to her instincts and howl like a coyote.

A pair of strong arms wound themselves around her. Jo choked. And turned in his arms to burrow against him. Neither of them cared what their colleagues thought. They just hung on. She buried her face in his shoulder, breathing in his scent, rubbing her cheek against the softness of his jumper, feeling the firm muscles of the broad strong shoulder she was being held against. He was there, he was safe, and she guessed he was mostly unharmed. Her arms tightened round his ribcage, and he winced as she squeezed a tender spot, but he hugged her tightly to him all the same.

"I'm sorry." he murmured against her hair, his fingers stroking the soft bright auburn tresses. "I should have said no."

"Hun... you couldn't... I know..." His hand tilted her chin up, his thumb wiped away her tears and then he leaned in to kiss her, oblivious to the startled silence that fell around them. Her arms slid up round his neck and she relaxed into his kiss. Their tongues met and entwined and they explored each other hungrily. Almost a month of forced distance between them and they threw caution to the winds.

They came up for air slowly. The stunned silence registered. He looked down into her eyes. "I think they know."

"You think?"

"Just in case. Shall we do it again." He captured her lips again, and she melted against him. This time uproar, amongst the wolf whistles and shouts of _get a room_ Stuart held on to Jo and made good on a promise he'd made before the nightmare.

When they came up for air a second time, Jo took his hand. "I know you want out of here, hun. But I think we owe it to them to stay for a bit." Stu nodded. He was surprised to find just how many people had been prepared to believe that the story wasn't true. He had friends, people who cared about him. He struggled to process that startling information in his already overwhelmed brain as Jo tugged his hand and he followed her to a table. A drink appeared out of nowhere as he slid down into the seat next to Jo and put his arm around her waist.

"Congratulations, DS Turner. A fine result." Heaton looked down at the younger man. "Well worth the risk."

"Sir." Stuart looked down at his pint, "though if I had known exactly what I might have lost," he looked round at his friends, at the people who had believed in him and knew that that meant more to him than any congratulations, "I'm sure I wouldn't have gone through with it." His voice wobbled a bit, and Jo squeezed his hand.

Heaton had the grace to look a bit shamefaced. "Well done." He moved away. And Stu struggled for control. Jo leaned into him, he bent his head to kiss her, and to conceal the tears that slid silently down his cheeks.

* * *

A couple of companionable pints later, when Stuart was feeling pleasantly mellow, and the evening was just beginning to lose a little focus, Stevie looked at him and Jo. "If you two are..." she struggled for the right word, "_seeing_ each other, then who is D?"

Stu took a swig from his pint, "I have no idea."

He looked at Jo. "Do you?"

"No. Should I have?" Jo looked believably blank.

"But the roses?" Stevie looked at them, and decided that playing poker with either of them would be a really bad idea.

"The roses." Stu agreed. And Stevie huffed in frustration.

"Who is D?"

Stu smiled.

* * *

They walked towards the taxi rank. Stu was not entirely sober, but alert enough to walk in a relatively straight line, his arm around Jo's waist, her arm around his. It felt really good resting there. They paused by the rank, it was empty. Jo picked up the rank phone and spoke to the dispatcher on the other end of it.

"Taxi will be here in ten minutes." She slid her arms around his neck and smiled up at him, "you're not exactly sober... you know" she grinned.

"No I'm not." he agreed, the merest suspicion of slur in his words. "But I am sober enough to know this," he took her hands in both of his, and went down on one knee. "I love you more than anyone I have ever loved in my life before, I know that this was never part of our plans, but... will you marry me... Joanne Louise Masters." He took one hand from hers, and fished in his jacket pocket.

Jo took the ring. It had never been part of her plan. And it wasn't changing her, she knew that, Stu loved her and accepted her on her terms, he'd proved that time and time again. And it was no longer just him and her, now they were expecting a baby. A child born of the closest relationship she had ever had with anybody. She looked down at him, taking in the hopeful gaze of his brown eyes and nodded.

"Yes. I will marry you. But for god's sake get up from that ridiculous position before anyone sees you."

He grinned and surged to his feet, scooping her up in his arms.

"Put me down you crazy man." She tried to sound stern

"Tomorrow?" He hugged her.

"Tomorrow? Stu, what have you been drinking? We can't get married tomorrow."

"Okay not tomorrow, but in three days time. Will you marry me in three days time?"

She grinned back, his enthusiasm was infectious, even if she didn't really have the slightest clue what he was talking about. "Idiot. I haven't a clue what you're going on about, but if it will make you happy. Yes. I will marry you in three days time."

"Good." He turned round, "Taxi!!" He dragged her into it, tumbling onto the back seat he lifted her in his arms, and gave directions to the driver.


	7. Epilogue

Jo sat down on the edge of the bed, and looked around the beautiful little room that was all theirs. She had opened the window, and in the early evening light the sun reflected off the water that lapped at the shore of the loch, less than thirty feet from their window. It was so quiet and peaceful. No phones, no noise, no stress. Just perfect. She had to hand it to him, the craziest idea on the planet had worked out a treat.

From the moment he'd given the instruction to the taxi she had twigged that he had a plan in mind. They'd made it to the station with ten minutes to spare. He'd already bought and paid for the tickets, quite when he had arranged it all she had no idea, but he gave her no time to wonder, he'd dragged her into the pharmacy and bought a few essentials, then onto the train. The night train to Glasgow.

She lay back on the bed, picking up the piece of paper in her hand, she examined it, twisting the ring round her finger. She still couldn't quite believe that they had actually done the deed. _Eloped to Gretna Green._ That for better, worse, richer, poorer and so on they'd pledged themselves to each other. A piece of paper didn't change the fundamentals of who and what they were, it was more of a promise, to always be there for each other for the future. And although he was quite right, it was the cheesiest place she had ever seen, there was something quite romantic about it even so, and he promised that they would make it up to their friends who missed out later. Stilling her last protest. Slipping rings onto each other's fingers, she had never felt happier, in a bizarre sort of way.

She smiled as she read. She still couldn't believe that either... his middle name.

"What's funny?" He stretched out beside her, and she slid a companionable arm round his neck.

"You. I still can't get over your middle name."

"oh lord." he rolled his eyes, "what can I say, my dad was having a sixties flashback."

She laughed, and he swung himself up onto his elbow, his other hand moving to capture her and pull her close.

"I love you Joanne Louise Turner." he whispered as he leaned in for a kiss.

"And I love you Stuart _Dylan_ Turner." her arms went round his neck, and she claimed his kiss as she pulled him down to her.


End file.
